


running blind with no resistance

by ziammayner



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, based on au, this is really a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4573971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziammayner/pseuds/ziammayner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What can I get you?” Liam asks, looking up and seeing the mystery boy from last time. He gets lost in the depth of his brown eyes, matching his skin and somehow making him look...perfect. Liam doesn’t usually pay attention to things like that, but he can’t help but take in the form of this man, arm perched on the bar, his tattoos barely covered by the black t-shirt he’s got on, fitting and showing off the silhouette underneath. Not now, Liam thinks, bringing himself back to the “tending” part of his job title.</p>
<p>“Your name and phone number would go along great with a Jameson on the rocks,” the boy responds. Liam tries to ignore the first part of the comment as he gets him a drink, eyeing him cautiously. He’s used to people hitting on him in an attempt to get free drinks, but at least those people had been acquaintances of his. As far as he’s concerned, Liam’s never seen this kid before at school. So what did he think made it okay to say that?</p>
<p>(or, the one where liam falls in love with zayn, a typical guy who just happens to be the prince of pakistan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	running blind with no resistance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hanzo279](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanzo279/gifts).



> written as part of the liam payne fic exchange.
> 
> this was an excellent prompt and a ton of fun to do! a big part of the plot is derived from The Prince and Me, with some changes to fit the story x

Things aren’t the easiest for Liam Payne.

 

Okay, scratch that. They could be, Liam just doesn’t believe they should.

 

Although his parents have, on multiple occasions, insisted to help him with the costs of living while he’s up at school as well as giving him money for emergencies or parties, Liam has always been adamant about his refusal, saying he prefers to work for the money himself. It’s not that he’s ungrateful—the opposite, if anything—but he doesn’t want them to fully support him when they already have to worry about paying for college and helping Nicola start up her boutique in their hometown of Madison, Georgia.

 

It’s always been great for him, the proximity between Georgia State and his parents, a short drive away that makes his home the perfect place to go on weekends or to get away from school and relax before finals begin. It’s always something like that: Liam hates to admit that he’s not the most eager guy when it comes to the partying aspect of college—especially at a school as big as GSU—but at he same time cares a little too much about his grades and his career to even consider getting drunk on the weekends like the rest of the kids he knows do.

 

His roommate, Louis, the business major bastard who spends almost all of his days stuck in the campus bar Liam works at for extra cash, always tries to pull some sort of excuse in order to get Liam drunk. Notable examples include: “Leemo, you’re a music production major. How do you expect to produce incredible music and make a career if you’re not living the music?” with a smirk on his lips and a scotch on his hands, “I know this club about twenty minutes away where the music is killer and the guys are abundant. You should come,” and about twenty variations of the same sentence. Louis isn’t particularly great at selling people, but Liam can’t help but fall victim to the mischievous pout that gets Louis what he wants.

 

And, the few times he does agree to, Liam finds himself out of his element. He works at The Rook, some bar and grill a couple blocks off the main campus, so he’s more used to being behind the bar. The second he sits down, he’s uncomfortable with the thought of not knowing what to drink or how much of it he can drink. Liam’s always been the type to worry about his fitness, going for runs and going to the gym almost religiously when not at class, so he asks what the drink with the least calories is.

 

All he gets is a snort from the bartender and a Budweiser. He’s already in for a rough night.

 

x

 

It’s Labor Day weekend, which means everyone’s looking to get drunk off their heads for the next four days. School’s only been in session for about a week or two, but the slow drag of classes and the dwindling summer air that’s soon to turn cold has students running to the Rook for a drink or twenty. Liam finds himself working the bar again, a little too content with missing the chance to relax or drink on a Saturday night. Now that people are back and the bar is getting more circulation than just locals with nowhere else to go and kids stuck in Atlanta for the summer for internships or summer classes, he can do with the tips and a couple more hours clocked in.

 

The usuals are always there: Tommo with his eyes on some brown-haired guy that looks taller than the building itself from what he can see behind the bar, his arms wrapped around the kid while he holds on to his scotch with laced fingers, their bodies swaying to the beat playing through the speakers— _thought you got away with murder, left me at a loss for the words_ —as if they were the only two people at the bar.

 

Then there’s Jade, with her brown locks tied in a ponytail and a romper that reminds Liam of the summer, approaching the bar. Although she’s usually around, usually for the spinach dip and a couple of vodka cranberries before some guy picks up her tab and she goes home with her friends, Liam doesn’t usually talk to her much. He can’t help but remember freshman year, an almost forgotten memory lost somewhere in the four years that’ve passed. They were each other’s first friends, quickly bonding over their similar majors and interest in music, Jade more focused on the performance side of the spectrum. They were each other’s first college romance, spending every day in each other’s presence, showing each other their school work and getting lost in the beauty of Atlanta’s hidden corners together.

 

But much like freshman year, it came to an end. Liam was too focused on maintaining his grades and Jade was too busy searching the world around her for inspiration for anything between the two of them to work out. It’s not a bitter situation and it didn’t wreck their friendship, but there’s always that pang of “what if” when they do talk.

 

“Can I just get the usual?” she asks with a smile on her face, fingers patiently tapping on the wooden surface. Liam nods and picks up a couple of glasses, trying to multitask and pour another customer a drink at the same time. It’s clumsy as all hell, but he gets the job done, handing each their respective drink.

 

“Here you go,” he says, tapping on the screen to add the drink to her tab, not even bothering to question whether she had already opened one. “How’re you doing, love?” she asks, her voice as precious as he remembers it to be. “There’s been better days, but at least today’s a good day for business,” he responds, “you?”

 

Liam doesn’t really hear Jade’s answer. Partly because the thud of the music in the next song is a bit louder than the bar itself— _give me love, give me dreams, give me a good self-esteem_ —but mostly because he can’t help but notice the boy making his way down the stairs. It’s something about the short, dark hair, maybe the slew of tattoos spread across his body, looking as natural as freckles on his skin, or perhaps the overall package, that has Liam breathing a bit faster, eyes following his every movement.

 

x

 

Liam sees him again, another night at the bar. The lights are dim and it’s a Thursday night, about two weeks after the first time. This time, he’s not working, but is rather on yet another attempt by Louis Tomlinson to get him “out of their apartment and into some trouble,” as he usually says.

 

“Go get us another round, barboy,” Louis demands, already one whisky sour too far in, “and bring that boy you’ve been staring at all night too, with a cherry on top.”

 

Liam turns the color of the aforementioned cherry on his way to the bar.

 

He doesn’t bother distracting Niall to ask for a drink, seeing as how there are already a few people waiting for a drink, so he just goes behind the counter and pours another round for him and Louis. “You want me to help you with these?” he asks Niall as he puts the drinks on his tab. “Sure thing,” Niall shouts back, the music as usual making it harder to keep a conversation— _just tell me what I have to do to keep myself apart from you_ —and the chatter of customers talking to friends and trying to order drinks overpowering everything around him.

 

And so he does, trying to take care of customers until there’s only one left. “What can I get you?” Liam asks, looking up and seeing the mystery boy from last time. He gets lost in the depth of his brown eyes, matching his skin and somehow making him look...perfect. Liam doesn’t usually pay attention to things like that, but he can’t help but take in the form of this man, arm perched on the bar, his tattoos barely covered by the black t-shirt he’s got on, fitting and showing off the silhouette underneath. Not now, Liam thinks, bringing himself back to the “tending” part of his job title.

 

“Your name and phone number would go along great with a Jameson on the rocks,” the boy responds. Liam tries to ignore the first part of the comment as he gets him a drink, eyeing him cautiously. He’s used to people hitting on him in an attempt to get free drinks, but at least those people had been acquaintances of his. As far as he’s concerned, Liam’s never seen this kid before at school. So what did he think made it okay to say that?

 

“That’ll be five bucks,” Liam replies as he hands him his drink. There’s a bit of a smug look on his face, clearly just trying to get back to his friends. This stranger, however, is apparently not giving up on it. “I’m Zayn,” he adds, and Liam can actually hear the accent this time. It’s foreign, sounds somewhat British but it’s nothing Liam could be too certain about, as the kid had already deceived him with the disconnect between his looks and his personality.

 

“Nice to meet you. Liam,” he responds, deciding to give him at least the minimal gesture of a first name. Liam grabs his drink and Louis’ from the bar, but the sound of “How about that phone number?” stops him on his tracks. Liam rolls his eyes at Zayn, giving a simple “no” as an excuse as he grabs the drinks and turns to walk out.

 

Then there’s a hand gripping at his wrist.

 

“Come on, just want you to come over so you can—”

 

Liam doesn’t even think about the following acts. He barely hears the thud of his beer against the floor where the glass breaks, barely feels the plastic of the soda dispenser as he grips it with his hand, barely remembers pulling the trigger. When he comes to, a few seconds after, Zayn’s got a look of disgust on his face, adorned with strands of his black hair stuck on his forehead from the soda. His clothes are soaked and he looks like he’s trying to come up with something to say, but Liam decides not to give him this one. He mouths a quick “sorry” to Niall as he makes his way out of the bar, stopping by his table to let Louis know he’s leaving.

 

Louis isn’t there, so Liam just assumes he’s with Harry or whatever the fuck the kid’s name was. He’s too angry to remember. Liam grabs his jacket from the table, steals a cigarette and a lighter from Louis’, and heads out the door.

 

Tonight was a rough one. But at least he wasn’t the wet one.

 

x

 

Liam tries to completely ignore that day. Doesn’t think about it, doesn’t fall for every trap Louis sets up to get more information—”Come on, Leemo, why did you do that? Sounded like he was perfectly fine with you soaking him with-” and the sound of a pillow hitting Louis in the face. He tries to focus on his schoolwork instead, tries to plan a schedule of classwork and working out that leaves him so occupied that he can’t think about that asshole Zayn, the disgusting choice of words and the way he thought Liam was just going to go home with him because he was good-looking. He realizes he has to work at the bar, however, and that becomes a big concern as he doesn’t know if this guy’s gonna show up again and try the same thing on him.

 

He’s too busy to be bothered anyways, Liam reminds himself as he walks to class.

 

x

 

It happens one day at the end of October.

 

Liam’s focused on taking notes for this dumb economics class, trying to jot down whatever the professor is saying while simultaneously following with the reading on the book, and things get kind of complicated. He’s not gotten much sleep in the past week, trying to pass his first English test, which he took as an elective. He wishes he could have chosen not to get a D, but there’s nothing he can do about it at this point except let it ruin his day.

 

The professor does continue to ruin it, however, starting to talk about some case study project they are expected to complete. The kick? It’s in pairs. Liam goes on to acknowledge to himself that he doesn’t really know anyone in his class, mostly because he sits up front and tries to take notes because he values his education and all that. The TA proceeds to hand out the guideline for the project while the professor begins to assign pairs.

 

“Let’s hope it’s not too bad,” he hears someone say behind him. Liam turns around and recognizes the kid, Harry, the one guy Louis had been talking to that night. Part of him doesn’t want to respond because of the indirect association to such a traumatic incident, but he knows it would be disrespectful, so he just nods and gives him a soft smile as he turns to face the board once again.

 

“Liam Payne and Zayn Malik,” the professor reads off his sheet nonchalantly. Liam wishes they were at the Rook, the music playing so loudly that he would be able to act like he hadn’t heard that. There’s things Liam wish weren’t happening, but then there’s this. So he just sits in his chair, his stuff packed, listening to the professor go over the rubric and how they need to contact their partner and whatnot.

 

The second they’re dismissed, Liam grabs his backpack, latches one of the straps over his shoulder, and makes his way out the door. He’s got his headphones out, music blaring and drowning the world outside— _I don’t ever wanna be here, like punching in a dream, breathing life into my nightmare_ —as he makes his way back to his apartment, where hopefully he’ll wake up and realize that this has all been just a terrible nightmare.

 

Instead, all he gets is a tap on the shoulder, fingers that feel way too familiar on his body. Liam takes the headphones off and says, “What, Zayn? I get it, I have to work with you. We can split up the work and then just-”

 

“Listen, Liam, I’m sorry,” Zayn starts, “I was extremely out of line that night and I now understand how rude my comment was. I hope you can forgive me and that we can work on this project together.” There’s a pleading tone in his voice and Liam can’t help but notice how he nervously worries his lips after he’s done talking, his own face shaping into that exact serious look he’s being given.

 

“Yeah, okay. Apology accepted,” Liam responds, still somewhat cautious of the dark-haired boy, “Just know I take my grade in this class very seriously. You don’t pull your weight and I’ll talk to the professor and finish the project on my own.”

 

“Absolutely, yeah,” is all Zayn says before he’s pulling out a piece of paper from the pocket of his black jeans and handing it to Liam. “I’ve got a job interview so I have to leave, but let’s arrange for a time to meet and work on this project.”

 

“See ya,” Liam says quietly as he looks at Zayn walking away from him. There’s still a bit of a burn where Zayn’s fingers laid on his skin, burning through his clothes. He looks down at the piece of paper and sees _Zayn x_ scribbled in blue pen with a phone number underneath it.

 

At least this time, he wasn’t the one giving out apologies and phone numbers.

 

x

It turns out Zayn is terrible at economics.

 

They spend hours in the library that are filled with Liam almost getting kicked out for speaking a little too loudly for Zayn, wondering why he can’t grasp a concept as basic as supply or demand. The project turns into Zayn looking up information on their case study and Liam putting it together to spare himself the rage. It contradicts the rest of his coursework, which is beginning to pile up, so Liam tries his hardest to rush the completion of this stupid assignment, so he doesn’t have to see Zayn anymore.

 

Sometimes it gets difficult to concentrate, because Liam forgets to breathe the longer he stares at Zayn, thinks about the beauty in his face, counts the eyelashes that cover the caramel eyes he’d already fallen victim to. He reminds himself that Zayn isn’t the kind of person he’s looking for, because he’d already shown his cards during their first encounter.

 

One day, it becomes really easy to concentrate.

 

Zayn doesn’t show up to their meeting.

 

u can finish this urself im not waiting 4 u in here zayn Liam says in a text message, angry as he’s packing his stuff and heading to his apartment.

 

Four hours later, when he’s at the gym, his phone buzzes, a brief _i’m really sorry liam. promise i’ll make it up to you?_ on the bright screen.

 

Liam tosses his phone back in his bag and decides today’s the kind of day for boxing.

 

At least this time, he wasn’t on the receiving end of the punches.

 

x

 

They get an A on the project.

 

Zayn’s taken no credit for it, because Liam’s done the most. “I’m sorry I really am not good at economics,” Zayn once said, but Liam just shrugged it off. He’s also taken to sitting next to Liam in class, as if the lecture hall wasn’t big enough for them two to not have to interact or see each other like they had the first half of the semester.

 

Most of the time, Liam’s able to ignore his presence right next to him. But sometimes, Zayn wears this cologne and Liam swears the room around him starts spinning. He’s not sure what it is, but the scent is intoxicating to him, reminds him of smoke and fire but also of spring and meadows.

 

It could’ve been a metaphor, but Liam ignores that for the time being.

 

“You smell nice,” Liam says blankly one time, when it gets to be too much for him.

 

“Thank you,” Zayn replies with a smile, flashing his grin for a brief second, “It’s Gucci.”

 

Zayn won this one. Because at least this time, he wasn’t the one smelling the cologne at a perfume shop while considering the purchase.

 

x

 

Zayn gets a fucking job at the Rook.

 

Not like Zayn Malik looks like the type to have ever worked a single day in his life, but it gets more irritating the second he asks Greg, the manager, what the hell is going on.

 

“He’s gonna be starting as a bartender,” Greg says, bringing a couple cases of liquor down the stairs, “Came highly recommended.”

 

Liam scoffs, remembering what happened the last time Zayn had been on either side of that bar. “By who?!”

 

Greg gives him a look, as if he was trying to fill in the blanks with his gaze. “By you,” he responds, “Now help me carry the rest of these, Liam. This old man can’t do it all by himself.”

 

Turns out, Liam also has to train him.

 

When Zayn first comes in, dressed to a T like he’s working the most prestigious bar in New York City as opposed to a college shitshow, Liam has a few choice words for him.

 

“Using me as a reference? Are you fucking kidding me, Zayn?” Liam tries to be quiet because there’s customers eating lunch, but the blood is already boiling up to his head.

 

“Yeah,” Zayn says quietly, turning away from Liam, “I forgot to ask about that one and I’m sorry. I needed a job and I didn’t know where else to go, then I remembered you worked here and I figured you wouldn’t mind putting a good word in for me?”

 

Liam’s infuriated, but he doesn’t act on it. Instead, he just changes the topic and goes right into teaching Zayn the basics.

 

By the time the bar opens tonight, Zayn will be ready to pick up Niall’s shift. Liam teaches him the measurements, where everything is, and how to prepare some basic mixed drinks. There’s a moment that Liam chooses to store in his “favorite moments” section: Zayn operating the soda machine. He grabs the nozzle and looks at all the buttons, the majority of them self-explanatory in nature.

 

The second he presses one of them and Pepsi starts pouring out into the glass, Zayn jumps back in fear and drops the hose.

 

Liam doesn’t let that one slide.

 

They don’t really speak throughout the night, both of them busy taking care of customers all night—while Liam tries to not have to talk to him. There’s live entertainment today, so the Rook is louder than the usual loud, the drums banging and the music flowing throughout the bar—you don’t got to lie, just keep going faster babe, faster baby, why? I’m on your side—and everyone seems to be having a good time. Even Liam.

 

He gets caught in the music for a bit while he’s cleaning the bar, swings his hips in time with the music, gets a little too caught up. He looks across the bar and there’s Zayn, leaned back against the bar with a cup of water in his hands, laughing while he looks at Liam. Liam immediately stops and stares at him, but when Zayn’s not looking, he may or may not have smiled to himself and sighed.

 

Three hours later, when Liam’s getting into his bed after cleaning up the bar and counting up tips, he gets a text message.

 

_thanks for tonight li, really meant a lot. see you soon xxx_

 

He’s never had anyone call him that, but at least this time it’s something that’s not gonna stick.

 

x

 

Except it does.

 

And so does Zayn.

 

They work together, they have that stupid class together. Liam almost feels like he can’t escape Zayn.

 

But, as the November wind gets colder, Liam warms up to him. Learns all about Zayn, how he’s lived in Britain for the past couple of years where he attended a private school, how his favorite flavor is chocolate and his favorite season is spring. It’s the smallest details that make Liam feel like he can trust Zayn, like there’s someone in there that has more to show than a cheap pick-up line on a first encounter.

 

Zayn also helps him with his English class; the literature background he comes from shows incredible when it comes to the classic and he’s reading Fitzgerald, Orwell, Shelley, and a couple others.

 

It’s the middle of November and Liam barges into the Rook, a piece of paper held in his hands as he runs all the way to the bar, where he knows Zayn’s cleaning up the surface.

 

“What’s going on?” Zayn asks a bit anxious, looking at Liam’s eagerness and joy, “You look awful excited.”

 

Liam doesn’t say anything, just shows him the paper. An English test. A B+ scribbled in red pen at the top right corner.

 

Zayn comes across the counter and wraps him in a hug.

 

There’s something about the tight embrace, the feeling of Zayn’s bony frame against his own, the smell of that Gucci cologne he’s come to associate with Zayn, the way his fingers are rubbing circles into Liam’s back like this isn’t their first time hugging. It leaves Liam confused, because it’s an incredible feeling. He never wants to let go, never wants to not smell Zayn and feel him this close.

 

Liam does something radical.

 

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving break?”

 

x

 

Liam’s parents love Zayn.

 

They find his endearing behavior fascinating, the way he conducts himself in an extremely polite way is a shock to Liam, but a pleasure to Karen and Geoff, his parents.

 

Ruth makes fun of him for all she can, calling him “Liam’s boyfriend” and asking Zayn a trillion questions that usually end up with Liam screaming “Ruth, stop!” Karen smiles softly at him, pulls Liam and says, “He looks like a really nice guy, Liam. I like him.”

 

Liam doesn’t understand why everyone thinks he’s got a crush on Zayn, because he doesn’t.

 

Liam shows him around town, takes him on walks across the small town of Madison while they talk about their life, Zayn’s family, what people do around here for fun.

 

Liam takes him on a horse tour of the town and finds himself amazed at Zayn’s ability to maneuver a horse, how he doesn’t feel scared but rather acts like all he’s missing is his equestrian attire and a full obstacle course. It’s endearing to Liam, but it’s also a thought that he tries to keep on the back of his head, along with the way Zayn looks when he reads The Great Gatsby to him, talks about the green light and what it means beyond the surface and the way he always dresses like he’s got somewhere to go but doesn’t complain about Liam wearing jeans and a t-shirt for every occasion.

 

They get ice cream from a local shop, decorated like a ‘50s diner that serves some of the best burgers Liam Payne has ever had. Zayn gets chocolate, Liam gets jealous at the way Zayn’s tongue darts out to lick at the ice cream, enveloping it and smiling at the taste. He doesn’t understand why, because as far as he’s concerned, Zayn is this douchebag that was rude to him at work and doesn’t deserve his attention, let alone his affection.

 

“You have a very nice hometown,” Zayn says, cleaning the ice cream off his lips with a napkin, “your family’s really nice too.”

 

Liam smiles, because it means the world with him. “Thank you,” he responds softly, goes on to think about how much Liam’s family likes Zayn, tries to fill in the blanks of why he doesn’t like him as much as everyone else in his home.

 

x

 

It happens on the last day before they go back to school.

 

Everyone else is asleep but them, both laid out on the roof of the house, staring at the stars. Liam tells Zayn about how this place used to be his escape when he was younger, how he would come here and think for hours, sometimes waking up to the morning light. Zayn stares at him with a permanent smile on his face, his caramel brown eyes hypnotizing Liam and making him doubt the relative beauty of the night sky.

 

They stay silent for a bit, until Zayn speaks again.

 

“ _A world of made is not a world of born, pity poor flesh and trees, poor stars and stones, but never this fine specimen of hypermagical ultraomnipotence_ ,” Zayn says as Liam turns his head to face him, “ _Doctors know a hopeless case if—listen: there’s a hell of a good universe next door; let’s go_.”

 

“What was that?” Liam asks, confusion and endearment blending into his expression.

 

“E.E. Cummings, a poet,” Zayn responds, his expression thoughtful. “You ever think of how people remind you of certain things?”

 

“Yeah,” Liam nods.

 

“You remind me of a night full of stars, waiting to be counted like the freckles of your skin, bright in all the darkness,” Zayn says, his hand reaching to touch Liam’s arm, graze fingers on the skin, burning holes everywhere he touches. Liam’s blushing, endearment beating confusion in this match that’s been happening for the past three months. “You remind me of spring,” Liam says, thinking about the cologne and the way Zayn looks at him like he could start again. Because he wants him to.

 

Maybe that’s why everything was happening this way, because Liam hadn’t liked that Zayn but it was because this Zayn wasn’t out there yet. They lay like this for a couple of seconds, facing each other with a smile on their lips and Zayn’s arm drawing shapes on his arm, as if he was trying to recreate every tattoo he’d ever gotten, as if he was trying to mark Liam’s body.

 

Rationality loses to instinct when Liam closes the space between them, looking into Zayn’s eyes and finding himself lost. So lost he closes his own and presses his lips against Zayn’s.

 

It’s still, for a couple seconds that feel like hours, where Liam regrets his decisions. But then Zayn’s returning the kiss, his hand moving to wrap fingers around Liam’s neck, pulling him closer. They spend moments like this, experimenting and becoming acquainted to the touch, the feeling of their lips pressed against each other in kiss after curious kiss. Liam learns to like the taste of Zayn’s lips, like coffee and cigarettes and thinks about the feeling of smoke and fire, how he came to associate it with Zayn as well.

 

Liam darts his tongue out cautiously, licks at the bottom of Zayn’s lip like he’s asking for permission, being met with Zayn’s. They kiss passionately, indefinitely, their lips pressing and Liam’s hand makes its way down to Zayn’s back, runs up and down the stretch of his body, kissing him until he feels like he’s run out of air.

 

When they finally pull apart, there’s a smile on Zayn’s lips that lets Liam know he’s made the right choice.

 

x

 

They wake up in each other’s arms on the roof of the house.

 

Ruth knocks on the window, laughs to herself, and walks away.

 

At least this time, she wasn’t the one caught falling in love.

 

x

 

Things are incredible by the end of the semester.

 

Louis and Niall both have grown sick of their antics, the way Liam always finds an excuse to hold Zayn’s hand and how Zayn always brings Liam his favorite sandwich from the deli two blocks away whenever they get together to study for finals. Liam doesn’t grow wary of it at all, trying to surprise Zayn at times with copies of books that he finds at vintage stores, and a new bottle of the Gucci cologne as a Christmas present. It’s more of a present to himself, seeing as how he sprayed his pillowcase with it and he gets to smell Zayn all the time, but he doesn’t need to know that.

 

They’re at the library one day, Louis and Niall and that boy Harry who Louis has been “seeing” for a couple of months, something Liam takes to mean a one-night stand that turned into more. Studying for finals is getting old quick, the effect of the coffee running off and tiring him out. Liam struggles to read through his audio engineering notes, doesn’t want to think about finals anymore.

 

He takes Zayn’s hand, gets up, and begins to run.

 

They don’t know exactly where they’re going, dodging bookshelves and desks like Liam’s skilled at this kind of thing. Zayn’s laughing the whole way, asking “Where the hell are we going?” with his outside voice, guaranteed to earn him at least one shush.

 

Liam discards going outside, given that it’s pouring and both of them would be soaked by the time they get to either of their apartments. Therefore, he makes do with what he has.

 

They’re on the top floor of the library, usually the most vacant because no one wants to walk up all those stairs. Liam’s guiding him through the maze of halls made from bookshelves, past a few people too focused on their studying to notice the ruckus they’re causing.

 

Liam doesn’t give himself time to think before he’s grabbing Zayn’s hips and slamming his body against the closest bookshelf, slotting his own in the space between, his lips looking for Zayn’s. Zayn gasps a little but doesn’t complain when Liam kisses him, returns it with something beyond desire and a little more than passion.

 

When they’ve kissed before, it’s been about exploring. This time, however, Liam feels like it’s about conquering. He’s got his hands roaming all throughout Zayn’s body, memorizing the curves of his hips and the dip of his back, kissing him fervently, a fire spreading throughout his body when Zayn licks at his lips, his hands pressing against Liam’s ass to bring him closer.

 

Liam feels the press of Zayn’s body against his, how their different frames fit perfectly against each other. He feels the length of Zayn’s dick pressing against his own, hard and begging for friction as he thrusts against Zayn’s body, moves down to press kisses to his neck, where he begins to suck on the spot where his neck meets his shoulders, eliciting a moan from the other boy. Zayn’s hands move under his jeans to firmly grip his ass, grinds his body against Liam’s in a way that makes him feel dizzy, intoxicated on the way they feel pressed against each other. “Need you, Li,” Zayn begs, and Liam’s perfectly fine with not being called anything else ever in his life.

 

However, it’s not always enough. Liam works his way to take Zayn’s shirt off, exposing the skin covered in tattoos he remembers hearing about, but has just now wanted to kiss, wanted to mark. Zayn mirrors him, pulls at the buttons of Liam’s shirt until he’s bare, presses a couple quick kisses before his hands work at the button of Liam’s jeans, reaching down his boxers to stroke his cock the second he’s able to pull the zipper down. Liam throws his head back and lets out a low groan, the feeling of Zayn’s calloused hands and the tongue teasing a nipple putting him on overdrive.

 

Liam pulls Zayn back up to kiss him while he’s stroking him, Liam working Zayn’s jeans to reciprocate. He’s got Zayn pressed against the bookshelf, their bodies rutting against each other to add friction to the stroke of fingers on each other’s dicks. Liam takes his time getting acquainted to the weight of Zayn’s dick on his hand, leaking onto his palm when Liam’s rubbing the underside of the head.

 

Zayn’s eyes are a darker color with desire, speeding up his pace on Liam’s cock, pulling the foreskin back and grazing a thumb on the head before bringing his hand back to his lips, lapping the precome on his thumb with his tongue. Liam feels like there’s no room to breathe, wants to see Zayn like this and much more, sprawled on his bed and begging to be fucked, wants to learn the sound of every moan Zayn can give as a response to his touch, wants to do this a million times over. With Zayn.

 

Because right here, right now, there’s nothing but the sound of Zayn’s moans against his lips.

 

And the shutter of a camera lens.

 

x

 

Everything happens in turbo speed. Zayn grabs their shirts and takes Liam hand, begins to run. Liam’s being guided down the staircase all the way to the exit, confusion taking over everything that once occupied his mind.

 

They make it to the exit, Zayn busting the door open and continuing to run, rain drops falling against Liam’s skin, putting his fire out. All he can hear in the far distance as they keep on going is the clamors of “Prince Javaad! Prince!” and the click of the fucking camera.

 

Zayn takes him to the overpass outside the Rook, where they feel safe and far enough from them that they will not be found. Liam doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know what to say, can’t even think how to say it.

 

“Liam,” Zayn says softly, tears starting to build up at his eyes. “Liam, look—”

 

Liam finds courage within him.

 

“What the fuck, Zayn?!” he screams, the fire spreading to his throat, his voice coarse and his fists balled. “Why the fuck were they calling you prince?! Javaad?!” He’s being irrational, he knows, but he’s never been caught with his hand down another guy’s pants on public property before, let alone documented with a camera. He deserves an explanation.

 

“Liam, listen. I’m part of the Pakistani royalty; my father’s the king and I’m next of kin and I should have told you that but I just wanted, for once in my life, to feel normal and you gave me that, showed me around and made me feel like I was just another guy, made me feel special because I felt like I was yours. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, I just—”

 

“You felt like fucking me over. You felt like it was fucking perfectly fine to play with my emotions like this? You think this is okay, Zayn? Just because you ‘wanted to be normal,’” he gestures with air quotes before he puts his fists back in a ball, “I have to get lied to and hurt like this? What the fuck is wrong with you? You do this everywhere you go? Find guys and make them fall in love with the lie that you fucking tell them?”

 

The pain spreads, for a different reason. The tears rolling down his face are not just from what’s going on. He cries because he realizes what he just said.

 

“Liam, please—”

 

But he’s done pleading. He’s done arguing. Liam’s done.

 

“No,” he responds, his voice aggressive as he puts his shirt back on and picks up his backpack, “Fuck you, Zayn.”

 

Liam walks away and makes his way back to his apartment.

 

This time, he’s soaked and broken.

 

x

 

They’re out for Christmas break, but Liam feels anything but joy.

 

He takes his exams, aces all his classes. Including English. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to even think about poetry, literature, or anything that can even slightly remind him of Zayn.

 

He takes up Louis’ invitations to go to the Rook, goes shot for shot with him, finds himself blurring out the people around him in his state of drunkenness, listens to the music and lets it hit home— _it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to, I’ll cry until the candles burn down this place, until my pity party’s in flames_ —and although a tear or two are shed, he doesn’t want to think about it, drowns the feeling in another shot.

 

Louis asks, so does Niall. Multiple times. Every time, they’re met with “I don’t want to fucking talk about it. Let’s do another shot.” They worry for Liam, who’s never been the kind.

 

Liam wakes up the next morning in Niall’s bed, knows there’s probably a hundred text messages from Zayn since the last time he checked his phone four days ago. He doesn’t want to read them, doesn’t want to do anything with the pounding and his head and the lack of memory he’s suffering from right now.

 

Niall makes him breakfast and pours him a cup of coffee, presses a kiss to his forehead and tells him everything will be okay before Liam leaves to go back home.

 

He gets to his apartment and is greeted by Louis and Harry, sitting on their living room couch, cuddling and watching cartoons on the TV. Liam ignores them and walks to his room, slams the door closed.

 

He takes his shirt and pants off, decides he’s gonna take a shower before he goes back to bed, when he sees the envelope on his bed.

 

It sits there, at the center of his comforter, and Liam knows this can’t be real. It’s not ordinary, the stamp emblazoned on the blood red ink that seals the envelope shut too ostentatious to have come from anyone else than royalty.

 

Liam picks it up, looks at the cursive “Liam” written on the front, begins to tear up just at the thought of what can be inside. He walks out of his room, his boxers the only thing covering him up, before he asks, “What is this?”

 

Louis and Harry turn around to look at the letter, Harry confused, Louis more knowing. “It was here when I came in today, Leemo,” he says, his face thoughtful before he finishes, “I think it’s from Zayn.”

 

Liam opens the envelope and Harry makes his way over to him, puts his arm around his shoulder and says, “You don’t have to read it, you know that.”

 

Liam nods, but he takes out the piece of paper inside.

 

It’s small, a square of fancy paper with some writing that he recognizes as being Zayn’s handwriting.

 

_you said you wanted something new_

_so i showed you the world_

_in a million hues_

_yellow, red, purple and green_

_but in the end_

_you left me blue_

 

Harry reads it out loud and Louis gasps, a soft cooing sound escaping his lips. “Liam?” he hears Harry ask, but Liam’s paralyzed.

 

No words can explain the mistake he’s made.

 

x

 

Liam works through the tears and reaches for his phone in his drawer, sees the notifications on his phone. He doesn’t know if he’s ready, but he dives in anyways and reads the text messages.

 

_liam_

_liam please respond to me_

_liam, i can explain_

_i’m extremely sorry i did this to you. i really am._

_i never meant to hurt you, i just didn’t know how to say it without you changing your mind about me_

_liam?_

_liam i’m begging you please i need to talk to you_

_i’m going back._

The last text hurts the most, because now he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

 

Liam doesn’t think his next plan.

 

x

 

Louis and Niall help Liam pay for his ticket to Pakistan.

 

They’re at the airport, hugging Liam goodbye and wishing him the best of luck when he’s about to board.

 

“Everything will be okay,” Harry reminds him, but this time, Liam isn’t sure he can fix this.

 

x

 

The plane ride is silent. Liam’s got his headphones in, blasts music to drown everything else out— _I’m trying not to let it show, that I don’t wanna let this go, is there somewhere you can meet me?_

 

There’s tears shed, but Liam ignores the looks the people sitting next to him give him.

 

Liam wakes up when the airplane lands.

 

x

 

He gets in a cab and asks to be taken to the palace.

 

“It’ll be some time,” the driver explains, “there’s a festival for the royal family today.”

 

The cab ride is silent, comes to a halt after a while when they approach the crowd that’s out on the streets, celebrating.

 

Liam sees the horses in the parade, sees the wave of the king and queen, who he know comes to remember from pictures Zayn has shown him.

 

Liam gives the cab driver a $50 bill and gets out of the car, strapping his backpack on before he makes a run towards the crowd.

 

He spots Zayn, waving at the public from his horse. He’s dressed in what Liam assumes to be royal traditional outfits, but all he knows is he’s never seen Zayn look so beautiful. It’s a beautiful shade of orange, drapes over his body but still fits him perfectly as he greets the people of his nation.

 

Liam needs to get his attention.

 

“Zayn,” he screams, trying to get closer to where the fences are that keep them back. “Zayn!”

 

It’s a repeated clamor, unsuccessful until he gets noticed by a young boy close to him.

 

“It’s Liam Payne!” the boy screams, as if he’s seen a celebrity, “You’re Liam Payne!”

 

It spreads like wildfire. The people start chanting his name, repeating after the young boy. It’s extremely confusing, how they know his name. All he knows is that their chants work, because Zayn’s looking at him. He stops his horse, points at Liam as he’s gesturing to one of his guards.

 

It’s not until Zayn gets off the horse that Liam notices the girl left on it.

 

The guard moves some crowd members around, paves the way for Liam to come through the fence. Liam thanks him before he runs.

 

He doesn’t know what he’s looking to find, but he finds home when he’s got his arms wrapped around Zayn.

 

There’s tears coming down his cheeks, his breath uneven. No words are said. The applause of the crowd is enough.

 

x

 

Liam is amazed by the palace itself.

 

The decor on the walls is luxurious, with drapes and carpets and paintings of people adorning the green walls, with decorations in an orange that matches that of Zayn’s clothes, gold accents shimmering in their reflection on the marble floors.

 

Liam falls in love with this place.

 

“Prince Javaad wants to see you,” the same guard from before says, breaking Liam’s haze.

 

Liam follows him into the room, a magnificent library exposed as the doors open.

 

It looks like the entire library at Georgia State inside two stories, the collection of books seeming endless. Liam sees Zayn, the girl, and Zayn’s parents sitting on the couches to the left of the entrance, makes his way there. “Come here, Liam,” Zayn gestures as Liam follows.

 

He doesn’t know why, but he follows the cliche and bows to the king.

 

“This is my father, Yaser,” Zayn says softly, “and my mother, Trisha.”

 

Liam shakes their hands, his head low in respect. “Pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

 

“You as well, Liam,” he responds. “Please take a seat.”

 

“This is…” Zayn continues, looking nervously at the girl that was on the horse with him, “Ayesha.”

 

Liam doesn’t understand the brief introduction until King Yaser fills in the spaces. “Javaad’s future wife.”

 

Liam’s stomach drops and, this time, he feels embarrassed like he never has before.

 

x

 

Liam is asked to leave shortly after, escorted by a guide instructed to take him on a tour of the palace. “Can we have a minute, Liam?” Trisha asks, not giving him much of an option.

 

He gets shown around the palace: the multitude of rooms, the ballroom that’s dazzled in chandeliers and statues that look like they could pay off his student loans, the hallways that seem endless, just like in every movie he’s ever seen.

 

The sights distract him from the realization that Zayn’s getting married. To someone else. Who’s not him. However, he’s still curious.

 

“Why did everyone know my name at the parade?” Liam asks the guide as they walk towards the garden, looking at the arrangement of gardenias and hydrangeas throughout the garden, scattered on bushes and arranged in colors around fountains and statues. It’s beautiful and like nothing he could’ve ever imagined, but he still cannot acknowledge that this is Zayn’s home.

 

“You see,” the guide begins, her voice soft and polite, much like everyone else’s in this place, “Prince Javaad’s departure for America had been something that was heavily talked about in Pakistani media. It’s not very usual for a prince to do so, as they usually are responsible for conducting certain meetings and partaking in the politics of the country. It was only a matter of time until someone found him.” She clears her throat, avoiding talking about a certain incident. Liam thanks her for that.

 

“The story was published in national newspapers and the public saw it as the story of star-crossed lovers, broken apart by King Yaser’s poor health.”

 

“Poor health?” Liam asks, confused as to the fact that he’d just seen Yaser and he didn’t look ill.

 

“It’s nothing terminal, but King Yaser announced he would be stepping down from his position to focus on recovering and getting back to his normal health. The public was very supporting of his decision and Prince Javaad is the next of kin,” she continued, “but he lacked a spouse. Therefore, Lady Ayesha was arranged to be his wife, given her position in royalty and her connection to the Malik heir. They dated before his departure.”

 

Liam feels as if this is too much for him. This has to be a dream; a terrible, disgusting dream he can’t wake up from. He hears the guide’s phone go off, looking at her checking it.

 

“Prince Javaad wants to see you shortly, Mr. Payne,” she said, “He’ll see you at that bench in the garden, if you’d like to wait there.”

 

“Thank you very much for the tour,” Liam responded, making his way and taking a seat.

 

Maybe this time, he wouldn’t get his heart broken across the globe.

 

x

 

It feels like hours before Zayn actually shows up.

 

Liam’s pacing around the god damned bench, smelling a gardenia he’s picked from the garden. He looks up and sees Zayn looking at him, the smile he’s created just for him on his face. “Liam,” he says, his tone relieved, “it’s so incredible to see you. I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry about—”

 

“Listen, Zayn, I wanna forgive you,” Liam replies, worrying his bottom lip, “but I need you to start from the beginning.

 

They take a seat on the bench and Liam determines himself to let him tell his story.

 

“I didn’t like the whole prince thing. My parents sent me to a private school in England so that I would get an education and hopefully come back ready to take the throne, but it never was what I wanted. I spent two years after I came back from England following the royal duties and going to meetings and speaking to important people and it just never was for me. I just wanted to be normal.”

 

“So you left?” Liam asks.

 

“Exactly. I spoke to my parents and they agreed to let me go and get my literature degree, because they thought I was good at it. I picked Georgia State because I thought it was inconspicuous, nobody would find me there. You have to understand, before I went to America, all I knew about the culture came from movies and TV shows.”

 

“Which is why…”Liam trails off, the figurative lightbulb going off in his head.

 

“Why I did that the first time we met. I found you beautiful but didn’t know what to say, so I just went off what I knew from TV. I felt like an idiot, I really did. But it lit a fire under me, to try harder, Liam,” Zayn says, grinning for a second. “I tried harder in school and then we got paired up on the project for economics and all I really wanted was to make things right with you and try my hardest. And you know I did. I loved helping you with your English class and I loved you helping me with the case study for Economics. I loved all of that because it showed me how determined and driven you were, which is why I fell.”

 

Liam smiles as he’s fed memories of their time together.

 

“When we went home to your family on Thanksgiving, I knew I had to do something because I was falling for you. Hard. I wanted to tell you the truth about my family and all that, but I didn’t know how to come clean without changing your mind about me. I didn’t want you to see me as anything else than Zayn, your Zayn, because that’s all it ever was. Everything was real, everything I said, everything I felt, every time I kissed you. All real. It just turns out that I was royalty.”

 

“I felt extremely terrible when the library thing happened. I didn’t know they would be there and I didn’t expect that there were going to be photographers on the hunt for me. It wasn’t until I spoke to my parents that I found my father was feeling ill because of his age, so the rumor was that I was going to take over the crown. I never intended for that to happen and I surely did not want that to happen to you, Li.”

 

“Zayn…” Liam says, all the pieces beginning to fall into place, the tears beginning to form under his eyes.

 

Zayn takes his hand in his, intertwines their fingers together. “When you left, I felt like I had made the biggest mistake of my life. I didn’t know what to do, because you wouldn’t talk to me, you wouldn’t answer my calls or my text messages. So I just left. When I got here, my father scolded me for my irresponsibility and for tarnishing the reputation of the family with my reckless actions.”

 

“Zayn, I’m so sorry,” Liam says, realizing wholeheartedly that this is his fault.

 

“It’s okay,” he assures Liam, rubbing his thumb on the back of Liam’s hand. “Anyways, when I got here, my father decided that I needed a spouse. When I explained my situation, he wasn’t too forgiving. Seemed to not care because he had already arranged for me to marry Ayesha. We asked you to leave because I told him I couldn’t, not when you were here, not when you existed. I couldn’t ruin myself like that, deprive myself of the one thing that made me feel like I was happy.”

 

Liam loses his composure at that.

 

“Remember how you said I reminded you of spring? You always reminded me of summer. You made me feel radiant and joyous and, more than anything, complete. Li, I couldn’t imagine my life without you at all. The two weeks you didn’t speak to me, I couldn’t live with myself. When you came to the parade and I heard people shout your name, I honestly thought I was dreaming. There was no way. How did you ever get here?”

 

Liam laughs, wiping a tear off his cheek. “Louis and Niall helped me pay for the ticket.”

 

“Such romantics, those bastards,” Zayn responds, joining in with a chuckle.

 

Zayn gets up and pulls Liam up with him into a hug. It’s short and sweet, but Liam knows he’s expressed every apology and every declaration of love through it.

 

“Liam,” Zayn says, tears welling in his eyes as he holds his hand, “I don’t ever want to lose you again. I don’t want to give you up, ever.”

 

“I love you, Zayn,” Liam blurts out, more certain this time than the one before.

 

He doesn’t get an ‘I love you’ back.

 

But Zayn gets on one knee.

 

“Will you guarantee me that I’ll never lose you again? That I’ll be able to live my life knowing fully well that you are going to be by my side? We’ll figure out how to make you the best king to rule by my side, but all I know is that I can’t rule without you, can’t live without you. I don’t want to kiss anyone else but you, don’t want to wake up next to anyone but you.”

 

Zayn reaches into his pocket and Liam feels the air get knocked out of his lungs for what seems like the fourth time since he arrived in Pakistan.

 

“Liam James Payne,” Zayn says, opening the box to reveal a silver band, “Will you marry me?”

 

Every thought Liam has ever had comes to him at once. Every doubt he’s ever had about his life and what Zayn meant to him, every kiss they shared, every secret they ever told. He’s crying, but this time, it’s nothing like the other tears that he’s shed over Zayn Malik.

 

This time, it’s comfort. It’s certainty. It’s safety.

 

“Yes, yes, a million times yes,” Liam shouts, crying as Zayn places the ring on his finger.

 

“I love you so much, Li,” Zayn says, getting up and closing the space between them, pulling Liam in for a kiss.

 

And this time, at least, Liam knows it’s true.

 

 

 


End file.
